


Head And Shoulders, Knees and Toes

by sorrowfulcheese



Series: Creating Labels [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:45:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrowfulcheese/pseuds/sorrowfulcheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After morning sex, Garrus wakes up to find himself labelled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head And Shoulders, Knees and Toes

    They lay with their arms and legs entangled, bodies cooling in the temperature-controlled room, breath slowing gradually. Garrus let his eyes drift shut as Shepard's fingers traced the lines of his face, drew her fingertips over his still-sensitive scars. She smoothed a hand over his chest and sighed. He was vaguely aware of it when she slid away from him, set her feet on the floor. He drowsed, aware that it was nearly time to get up, reluctant to leave the warmth of Shepard's bed.  
  
    In the mess, he knew, Shepard would be pouring hot, black, and no doubt slightly burnt coffee into her oversized mug. The mug had been given to her as a sort of joke because she drank so much coffee as a matter of course, and she had promptly begun using it. None of the crew dared touch it. With her ocean-sized mug of coffee Shepard would down the cocktail of painkillers and antihistamines that would keep their rather energetic sex life from killing her.  
  
    Garrus stretched a little and winced. It might kill _him_. Holding himself in check to ensure he didn't tear her skin sometimes resulted in strained muscles.  
  
    He opened his eyes and lay still a moment more. He reached up to brush something away from his face, spotted a bright white rectangle on his finger and paused, stared at the little thing.  
  
    TALONS (it read) FOR USE IN EMERGENCY ONLY  
  
    Garrus wondered if he'd pierced Shepard's skin again, without noticing; was this a less-than-subtle reminder? There was no blood on his own skin, or around his talons. He lifted his left hand and plucked the little rectangle away; it was lightly magnetic. There was a label on his left hand as well.  
  
    STEADY HANDS FOR SNIPING  
  
    Garrus snorted, amused and relieved; this was Shepard's sense of humour, and no reproach. Where had she found such things—and how had she located magnetic material that would stick to him?  
  
    He swung his legs over the side of the bed and realised that he sported several of the little word magnets. How had she gotten them on him without waking him? He was normally a light sleeper—  
  
    Not after sex, he supposed. They did tend to wear one another out.  
  
    He began to remove the magnets, reading them as he did so.  
  
    FRINGE FOR ATTRACTING THE LADIES  
  
    Garrus grinned. Shepard was fascinated by his fringe, and she had discovered that by using her nails lightly near the base of it—  
  
    He shivered and sighed, shook his head and continued removing magnets.  
  
    The one on his forehead read SHARP EYES SEE ALL TARGETS.  
  
    On his left temple, the magnet read BRAIN INSIDE FOR THINKY THOUGHTS.  
  
    "Thinky isn't a word," he informed the room.  
  
    On his right cheek: CHICKS DIG SCARS. So Joker had told him, more than once. Garrus chuckled softly.  
  
    His chest bore another: STRONG HEART FOR HONOUR AND LOVE.  
  
    On his side he found one that read, SUPPORTIVE WAIST. That made him laugh.  
  
    On his upper left leg, WHERE DID YOU  
  
    It was incomplete. Garrus made a face; the one on his right leg read, LEARN TO TANGO? He laughed again.  
  
    The magnet on his lower left leg read A JOURNEY OF A THOUSAND LIGHT YEARS; the one on the right, BEGINS WITH A SINGLE RELAY JUMP.  
  
    Had Shepard been drinking? If she'd taken her painkillers, she probably shouldn't have.  
  
    But these magnets had not been made in a drunken haze; they had been professionally printed. Shepard had planned them, had probably spent a lot of money on a special order for them. And then she had waited for him to fall asleep so she could stick them on him.  
  
    On his left foot, I'M STILL VERY SORRY; on the right, FOR STEPPING ON YOUR TOES.  
  
    He twisted to see if she had managed to get any on his back; there was just one small one, above his hip. Garrus reached back and fumbled for it, drew it around to read it and grinned.  
  
    SHEPARD  
  
    He stacked the magnets in descending size order and turned to set them on the bedside table. Just then Shepard padded into the room, holding her oversized mug. "You're awake," she noted.  
  
    "Been doing a little light reading," Garrus said, and turned to face her. Shepard's lips twitched. "Where did you get them?"  
  
    She shrugged, took a deep swallow from her mug and exhaled with pleasure. "Hot coffee," she said. "Not even burnt."  
  
    Garrus took the mug from her, set it aside, cupped her elbows in his hands. "You didn't label everything," he said. "You're usually more thorough than that."  
  
    "It wasn't an anatomy lesson," Shepard said wryly. "Just making notes of some of my favourite bits."  
  
    With a chuckle Garrus leaned down and touched his head to hers, and was gratified when she closed her eyes and stretched up to press against him. "Too bad you're so soft and have so little metal in you," he murmured. "I could get my own made, and stick 'em on you."  
  
    "How would you label me?" Shepard wondered. Her tongue slipped out to tickle his mandible and Garrus suppressed a shiver.  
  
    He considered this a moment, envisioned a naked Shepard on the bed with labels on all his favourite parts. "On second thought," he said, "I don't think I have enough credits to do that. Maybe I should just show you."  
  
    "Subtle."  
  
    "Sometimes subtlety isn't necessary, Shepard." He slid his arms around her waist and half-carried her back to the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry. So sorry. SO VERY NOT SORRY.
> 
> This was inspired by a conversation with wargoddess. In fact, every terrible thing I do is inspired by conversations I have with wargoddess. Take that how you will. ::mwaha::


End file.
